Enemy
by Landerin
Summary: Long before the Mockingjay was a twinkle in her parents' eyes, there was another tribute from district 7 that planted the kindling for the first fires of rebellion in the people of Panem.


**Enemy**

_Summary: Long before the Mockingjay was a twinkle in her parents' eyes, there was another tribute that planted the first fires of rebellion in the people of Panem._

**Author's Notes**: I came up with the idea for this story a little while ago, and through reading the books again, I continued to think about this idea until it festered into words on my computer screen.

WARNINGS: This story is going to contain a fair amount of indications of a homosexual relationship, and I know that this is (unfortunately) a touchy subject to some and also offends some people. So this is my first and only warning about this content. If you don't like it, then you don't have to read this, call this fair warning. The rating of this work is also reflective of the contents, so be aware before reading.

I do NOT own the Hunger Games. I am merely borrowing some characters/ ideas from those who do own the rights to the intellectual property, and I intend to return the characters and ideas relatively unscathed at the end of my borrowing period.

Now, onto the story.

Drop me a review with feedback! I would love some with this idea. I have a few more chapter at least outlined, so I will be able to get chapters up at least on a weekly basis. Thanks for reading!

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**Chapter One: Tribute**

The day that I became a district 7 tribute in the 49th Hunger Games was the day that I turned 17 years old.

It was only a matter of time before my name came out of the round, tall bowl, and it had nothing to with the number of times that my name was included in the reaping from the tesserae. It had everything to do with my family's so called curse.

It started in the first Quarter Quell, 24 years prior, when my father's elder sister and my mother's elder brother were chosen by the people to be the tributes of district 7. My parents' families took comfort in the other, feeling alienated by the other people of the district. Every night, the families would seek comfort in one another as the mandatory viewings of the daily Game highlights flashed across the television screen.

That was how they met, my parents, when the two families would gather together in one cabin or the other to watch the daily highlights of the Hunger Games. And when my aunt met her violent end, my parents clung together in sorrow and had been inseparable since.

Both families lost children in those games, but both families gained each other.

10 years passed, my parents were married, my other aunts and uncles began to start families, they thought that they were in the clear, that the nightmare of watching family members have to tear apart other children was over, and life went back to normal.

Just as my dad's side of the family felt the pain of loss begin to fade, my uncle had his oldest son sacrificed as a tribute at age 15. It was my first reaping, and I will never forget the look of barely contained terror on Trey's face as his name echoed in the cold public square, seeming to echo all the way to the coniferous forests at the edge of the district. I watched my cousin be torn apart in the initial bloodbath on live broadcast from my seat in the school cafeteria.

The next year, my father's other brother had his first born daughter reaped into the games at age 13. I watched my cousin, my best friend; walk up to the stage as whispers filled the crowd.

"Two tributes from one family? What are the odds?"

I wondered aloud that year what we had all been taught to suppress our entire lives, I wondered out loud if our family had done something to anger the Capitol. I wondered out loud if we were cursed or hated in the district, and what we had done to deserve it. I was hurriedly shushed by my entire family through angry tears as my cousin was dismantled on the television. We all knew there was something, but none of us knew what, and no one wanted to make it worse for our family.

That's what brought me to that moment, trying to be brave for my younger siblings and cousin standing in the crowd, trying to hold strength for my still grieving family holding their breath somewhere behind the line of peace keepers.

"Cecelia Banitas. Cecelia Banitas is your first tribute for the 49th Hunger Games!" Gaia Petit called to the crowd. She held her hands up in the air, her exuberant nails glinting in the sunlight. She was a heavier set woman, with a short hair style that she had altered to have a teal tinge to it. Gaia enjoyed the reaping more openly than any other human that I had ever laid eyes on. The excitement in her voice had always made me sick to my stomach, and somehow with my name being the words coming from her mouth, I hated her all the more.

The crowd was silent as I stepped out from my place in line and made my way to the wide aisle in the center, staring down at my simple leather dress shoes the whole while. The Peacekeepers took me into custody at the end of my age group line, two large men roughly grabbing my upper arms, leading the lamb to slaughter.

I focused on my feet as we walked the few hundred yards to the stage; I longed to have my feet be free of the confining leather shoes. I wanted to feel the dust and pine needles between my toes as I walked to my most certain death.

I stood on the stage, still flanked by the overzealous peacekeepers, and tried not to glance up into the crowd in fear of catching the eyes of my younger brothers. I would most certainly cry then, and that was not how the tributes were supposed to appear. Tributes were supposed to appear strong and able, not skinny and feeble as I did, and certainly proud to have been chosen as the district tribute for the current games. I would not help myself if I appeared weak during the reaping, I did not want to paint myself as an easy target before the games even fully began, that would be saved for the arena.

Gaia swirled the slips of paper around the bowl once before she drew out the male tributes name, "Dunnan Fletcher!"

My depression deepened with a pang. I knew this kid. I knew this boy that was going into the arena with me. He was a friend of my younger brother, Ahrbor. Not his closest friend, but a friend that had been around my house often.

He was only 14, the youngest son of the man that owned the paper mill. Dunnan glanced around the crowd, the look of shock on his face slowly turning to panic. The peacekeepers grabbed his arms and pulled the numb boy out of the crowd. He was so shocked that he couldn't even struggle; he just let the two overly burly men nearly drag him to the stage.

He trembled beside me, his blonde hair falling in his face. I touched his first finger with the little finger on my right hand, trying desperately to comfort the boy. He was completely numbed to the world around him.

The Reaping ceremony came to a close and Dunnan and I were swept back into the Justice Building in a hurried blur of people and confusion.

As we walked into the building, Dunnan and my proximities closed up enough for me to more solidly grasp his hand for a fleeting second, trying desperately to bring him back to himself. He caught my eyes, his green ones wide in terror.

I found myself rushed into one of the small side chambers that were built precisely for the last good byes of tributes. I sat on one of the old crumbling couches while I waited for my family to arrive. They would be the ones that would take up my time. I had very few friends from school to speak of, and most of them were in my extended family as it was.

A parade of my aunts and uncles came through the room, sharing pained looks with me as we tried to make small talk. I hugged each of my cousins and tried to hold it together. We had all been through this too many times, once in a family was more than enough.

When my parents and three younger brothers came into the small room, I finally broke down and cried. Judging from the red rims around my mother's and one of my brother's eyes, I wasn't the only one.

All three of my brothers, Ahrbor, Marcus, and Jason, latched onto me at the same time. They were younger, but all three towered over me. Ahrbor sniffed softly. He had loss coming at him from two sides, his sister, and one of his friends. The world seemed too small for my family that day.

None of us wanted to speak. No one wanted to address the inevitable. The six of us just held on to each other until a peacekeeper opened the door and stepped inside.

"Your time is up."

Two more peacekeepers entered the room, one for each side of me should I decide to bolt. I looked up at the two men wordlessly, then back at my family. I still said nothing to them. It wasn't until we had begun to leave the room that my dad spoke.

"Cece," He called, I looked back at him.

"Give 'em hell."

I gave him my best trouble making grin as I rounded the corner, trying to make their last in-person memory of me a happy one.

But I had to bite back a sob as I was pushed into the car that would take me to the district train station.

The train ride to the Capital was only an overnight trip; we would only be on the train for a total of 10 hours, including a stop to pick up the next engineer somewhere in the outskirts of district 7. I pitied the tributes from some of the outlying districts like 11 or 12, those tributes would be on the train for almost 48 hours before they reached the Capitol.

Mine and Dunnan's families stood next to each other on the platform, enough comfort to go around the grieving families. I waved to them out through the window, watching each and every face as it passed, all of them said the same thing; they knew that we weren't coming back.

Twenty minutes later, Dunnan and I sat next to each other on an overly soft couch, watching the highlights of the day's reapings. Dunnan sat very close to me on the couch, seeking something familiar and comfortable. I had no problem with the closeness from him, I had often thought of him as an extension of my family, as I did for all of my brothers' friends.

His head was rested on my shoulder, but would pick it up occasionally to toss his blond hair to the side. He had one of the strangest hair styles that I had seen in a long time, save for those of the Capitol. He kept his bangs a little bit longer than the rest of his hair, and then would often sweep the longer bangs across his forehead and tuck them behind his left ear. My father and I had taken to calling it the "swoosh" hair style. It suited him well. He pulled it off much better than I could have, but I had also inherited my family's much more boring set of classic "lumberjack genes". The most average set of looks that the district could muster, brown hair (usually pulled back at the base of my head), green eyes, average height and weight, my family could be the poster children of what district 7 really looked like.

The doors of the television car burst open and both Dunnan and I almost leaped out of our skins as Gaia waltzed into the room, followed by our two mentors, Cosmo and Antonia.

I had often seen the two around town here and there, trying to help out as many people around the district as humanly possible. Cosmo was a smaller man, maybe in his 40s or 50s, with deep smile lines in his cheeks and a rapidly receding salt and pepper hair line. He smiled broadly when he entered the room. I felt a connection with him immediately.

Antonia was significantly less inviting. She was the victor of the 3rd Hunger Games, making her in her early to mid-sixties. She had a smile on her face, but it didn't meet her eyes, drowning her face in barely concealed bitterness, but who could blame her, the last victor from district 7 was Cosmo many years ago.

Gaia cleared her throat, her arms held up as she talked, "Ah yes I see that you have found the highlights of today's reapings. But don't get too sucked into the television, we have a lot of work to do! And I bet you are hungry, a late lunch will be served in about half an hour in the next cart."

Both Dunnan and I cringed at her voice, unhappy to have to deal with her again. If she noticed, she gave no indication.

"Now I am going to go clean-up for lunch, and I will leave you all to," She stopped, glancing around room in slight disgust, her vision brushing over Antonia's figure last, "Well whatever it is you do."

And with that, she glided out of the car and into the next one.

An awkward moment of silence followed, only broken by the sound of the television on the wall. Antonia uncrossed her arms and threw her hands in the air.

"Good Lord, that woman is insufferable!" She said quietly, holding her temples and shaking her head. I instantly liked her a bit more. Dunnan giggled slightly.

Cosmo extended his hand to us, walking across the room, "Ah yes Cecelia and Dunnan. It is an honor to meet you, I'm Cosmo, one of your mentors."

He shook my hand quickly, followed by Dunnan's and plopped himself on the footstool in front of our couch. Antonia followed suit, not bothering to shake our hands.

"And I am your other mentor, Antonia. We will get to know each other more in the coming days I know. But for now, let's get a few things out of the way. Did you two know each other before today?"

Dunnan nodded, "Yes, her brother is my close friend. I've known her for a few years."

It was good to hear him speak a little. I was worried about him.

Antonia nodded, glancing over at Cosmo, "Alright good. We can work with that. I think that we should spend our next half hour of peace getting to know each other a little bit, so that we can start to make our plans of attack for the games."

Oh that's right. The Games, that's why I was on this train, I shuddered involuntarily.

We spent the next half an hour making small talk, talking about our skills and lives and what we wanted to do with our lives. It was almost a pleasant experience.

We carried the conversation to the late lunch, only halfway through a truly hilarious story that involved Dunnan, my brothers, and me chasing them with a small throwing hatchet after they poured a bucket of snowy and icy water over the curtain in my bath.

"And then I slid around the corner with the hatchet in one hand, holding my towel up with the other, and threw the sucker into the room after the four of them. I totally missed any of them, hit the cat with the blunt end, and sent the hatchet flying into the closet door!" I was red in the face from laughing, remembering how angry my dad was when he came into the scene, me standing in a towel, a hysterical cat, and four snickering teenage boys in the living room.

Someone cleared their throat loudly and the group of us entering the room stopped laughing abruptly. Gaia was watching our group with a look of deep disappointment, arms crossed across her chest and foot tapping.

"Well, if you are fully done with this meaningless story, lunch is about to be served," She huffed. I heard a low growl coming from Antonia and I fought back a giggle. We made quite a crack team, team district 7.

There was no way in hell that I could even sleep that first night.

We had just stopped to pick up the next engineer, and I had yet to fall asleep at all. I finally gave up tossing and turning in my bed and moved into the television cart, flipping through the highlights of the reapings.

The tributes from districts 1 and 2 were no different than I thought that they would be, strong and classically beautiful. All four tributes had visible muscle and showed signs of serious training for the games.

I didn't see anything out of the ordinary until I got to the district 4 tributes. The male was a typical district 4 tribute, Quintus, a boy of 16 with sandy blonde hair and sea green eyes, obviously a swimmer from his physique (go figure), and a look of cold distance on his face.

It was the female tribute that caught my attention.

She was overweight. There had never, to my knowledge, been a tribute that was overweight. The majority of the overweight citizens were from the Capitol, and even those numbers had been dropping. I was flabbergasted. It seemed something so foreign to me, but then again, I came from one of the poorest sections of district 7, where food was something of a scarcity at some points of the year.

This girl had my attention, and boy did she have it. There was something about her that I couldn't shake.

I didn't learn her name that night, I kept it paused on the final shot of her and Quintus on the train platform, waving to their families. I sat and looked at her for the final four hours of the train ride, only turning off the television when I heard the insufferable voice of Gaia coming to the car yelling something about breakfast.

We came up over the final hill to the Capitol during breakfast. The brightly colored landscape would normally have filled me with joy and excitement, but now, it only filled me with dread.

The 49th Hunger Games were about to begin.


End file.
